


Unstoppable Force, Immovable Object

by butterflysteve



Category: Batgirl (Comic)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflysteve/pseuds/butterflysteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephanie's plans for a perfect holiday go awry when she involves Batman in her holday planning. It's Bat versus Bat in this very special Holiday special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unstoppable Force, Immovable Object

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mattador](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattador/gifts).



Everything was going the way I, Stephanie Brown former Spoiler current Batgirl, had planned; the boys were helping me decorate the manor, Alfred was cooking and Cass was safely occupied with Bruce for the day. It was a cunning plan, one which meant that the most badass and cutest of girlfriends was kept occupied whilst I decked the halls with yadeyadeyada. I just don’t get why the boys are still staring at me like that. It’s a great plan.

“You asked Bruce to keep Cass occupied?” Tim asked.

“Yes?” I replied, hesitating as Tim looked at me with raised eyebrows. “What? Stop looking at me like that eyebrows, what’s with the eye-oh my god. He wouldn’t? He totally wouldn’t right?”

“This is Bruce you’re talking about blondie,” Jason replied hanging a rather battered looking paper chain above the fireplace.

“Oh my gosh, he’s going to ruin everything!”

 

 *

 

 _Somewhere in the Batcave, Cassandra waits..._

 

Lips placed against warm porcelain cup, I study the computer and wait for him. His message was ambiguous, a simple voice recording left inside my cave and I had dropped everything, dropped it all to be with him now. Bruce, my teacher and now my father too.

For years all I had wanted was Cain, my father, to place his hands on my shoulder, to feel the rough and worn hands go soft in quiet, gentle praise. Now, I didn’t want his respect or praise and I certainly didn’t crave it. He was still my father, I still loved him but I hated what he had turned me into. My father had turned me into a killer but it was Batman, Bruce, who saved me.

Bruce was demanding in ways Barbara never was. He never asked but I always knew what he wanted from me, even when I doubted myself I could always find what it was he wanted, always going the extra mile to make him proud. He trusted me to survive; he could see something there that I could not see. Bruce didn’t just save me, he made me save myself. In his eyes, in Barbara’s too, I could be made worthy. I could be redeemed, saved from the one day that I regret-the day I became a killer.

I still think about that day sometimes and about the man I killed; the way his lip trembled, the gasp for breath, the way I had looked to my father and the pride I had found in his eyes and the revulsion I felt for myself. I ran that day; I’ve never looked back to the family I once knew.  I have a new one now and they accept me, even as imperfect as I am. Bruce, Barbara, Steph... I love them all.

I don’t want to disappoint... _hnnn_... them.

I shift my head, glancing behind me slightly. I know he’s there watching me, he has been for some time now. I do not need to see him to know he is there; I do not need to hear him. He’s waiting for me or waiting for something.  I let my mind empty, eyes flashing to my right to where I know he is, lurking in the shadows, and I meet his gaze.

“Cassandra,” He murmurs my name, stepping out of the shadows into the light. I smile, a hint tugging my lips as I watch him. Dick’s words filling my mind: he’s always so _dramatic_. Yes, he was right.  He always was. “I thought we might spar; see how well you’re doing in your training.”

A challenge; I let my lips relax into a small smile, nodding my head minutely as I draw my arms and hands close to my side. I place the cup of tea Alfred had made me down on the desk carefully, moving away as I stretch my fingers out and curl them into tight fists. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I place them purposefully and wait. Poised for action, I wait steady and firm, a tightly drawn bow waiting to be released as I watch him move.  

He can never understand the beauty, the grace and the power he has when he moves. He is calculating, each move a precise blow of force barely thought about. Dick took us to the circus, Barbara to a gallery and they both thought it was beautiful but to me, fighting with him, is more beautiful than all the paintings and circuses in the world.  Each punch, each blow that makes contact with my skin is hard and devastating and I know, with warm appreciation that he is not holding back for me. He understands, he trusts me and I can trust him.

There are few people who I can trust to take the force of the blows that I deliver, not enough to kill but hard enough for him to feel and he is giving me silent permission to use that. He loves me too much to let me hold myself back and I can’t help but smile as his fists connect with my jar and I move, ducking beneath his arm striking at the side with her leg.

“She loves you,” He murmurs, voice gruff and dark. He never talks, he doesn’t need to. I can read him without words but they are serving a purpose. He is saying all the things he feels he cannot say to me now with his body, with his mouth. He turns, catching my leg and lifting me off my feet. His words have two purposes then; one to talk, one to distract. “But you cannot let yourself be distracted Cassandra.”

I nod, I know and I understand but I do not agree with his sentiment. There is the mission, there is our goal and then there is this- family, love, hope. Barbara had taught her that word; Steph’s life had given that word meaning. I understand his fear but I cannot let his fears dictate me or my actions. So, I twist using his body to lift myself up with both feet and soar above him. Striking him in the sternum as I land, light-footed and follow it through using his imbalance to tackle him, and pushing him off his feet.

I wish it could be as simple as that to defeat him but it is not, he is the goddamn Batman as Jason says, and I know my mistake before I am thrown over him. Rolling to my feet as we stare at each other, my chin set defiantly and his gaze stern as we crouch looking at each other.  Playtime is over. He meets my blows, countering them as we fight moving across the cave and stumbling over the car and using our surroundings to each of our advantages. He prefers defensive, trying to tire me out with my offensive tactics but I know him, I know his weaknesses as he knows mine.

“Prove to me that you can handle this, show me.” I tilt my head acknowledging him before I strike, moving in close to his body ducking out of the way of wild swings and striking with sharp blows. I use his momentum to gain height and brush my lips against his cheek registering surprise on his face before I head butt him, reeling against the contact and kicking him backwards.

I am showing him. I am showing that I have loved, that I can love and still be as strong as he expects me to be. I love Bruce, the way a daughter should love her father. But I love Steph.  And I am showing him the only way I know how to. I watch him, the small smile and I know he understands me. It is all the hesitation he needs he rushes me, knocking the breath out of me and also my knocking me off my feet. I land on my back, a soft noise exhaling from my lips as I hear voices growing, heavy footfall down stairs and a flash of blonde hair. The fight is over, he has defeated me but I have won.

“Sorry, I’ll be better.” I say, looking up at him with a smile as Steph, flings herself down the stairs, yelling at him. Placing herself between us. I look up at her, the swelling making my eye close and watch the way she holds herself as they argue. She does not understand, he does not approve but he understands. I smile as warm, worn hands strong yet gentle touch my shoulder and squeeze, I look blearily at the stern jaw and narrow lips and sigh. He cannot say it out loud but I can see it. _Pride_. He is proud of me. “Thank you.”

I let my mind empty, body relaxing as I slip into unconsciousness.

 

*

 

“I can’t believe he thought when I said keep Cass occupied he thought I meant: Oh, hey Daddybats let’s have a monster training session with Cass that will mean she gets beaten and bruised and how is that even Christmassy? Ow, what the hell? Cass!”

I had thrown the pillow, watching as it hit her square in the face. The blink of shock registering on her face before her features slide into a smile, a bright startling grin before she is running across the room to me.  I sit up, letting her hug me tight though my ribs hurt as she squeezes me. I smile, turning my head into her hair before I wrap my arms around her. Steph smells like Alfred does; gingerbread and eggnog, pine and sweat. She smells like _home._

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I thought he was just going to take you shopping or you know to the opera or something to keep you out of the Manor not-“

I smile, cutting her off with a kiss, as she muffles words against my lips before relaxing. The tension in her shoulders dissolves her pulse racing as I ease the anger away. I know why she is angry but she doesn’t understand, Bruce and I speak a different way than Steph and I do. We speak in kisses, in games of tag on rooftops not fists or stern glances, the love in his hands as he touches my shoulder gently.

“Thank you,” I say at last. I noticed the room, the chaotic disarray; the meticulously wrapped presents with Tim’s signature on them, the over-the-top Christmas tree that reads like Dick, the gingerbread cookies and the half-drunk glasses of milk and eggnog from Alfred, the red paper chains that I know are Jason’s work, Damian’s sullen presence in the corner of the room, Barbara’s voice in the hall berating Bruce for today.

“For...what exactly?” I can feel her puzzlement, the way her features shift. She doesn’t know.

“My present,” I reply simply.

“I haven’t given you one yet,” I smile and brush her hair from her face.

“Yes, you have.” She doesn’t know what she has given me, none of them do. She gave me what I wanted for weeks, a way to tell my father, to tell Bruce that I love him. And the other present, the surprise party that I’ve known about for weeks and them all gathered together right now.

She’s given me a family.


End file.
